


Embers in the Tundra

by SilentParalysis



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, M/M, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentParalysis/pseuds/SilentParalysis
Summary: A hyperfixation on the enemy quickly manifests into something else.
Relationships: Blitzwing/Bumblebee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Embers in the Tundra

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have another fic, but this idea of these two slow burning has been kicking my ass. Have my shabby attempt at slow burn. Time to duel wield fics at the cost of my sanity. I just need to not write a crying icy please lemme have this

Each vent stings as cold air is sucked into his frame at such an alarming pace, each warm exhale growing colder as the tundra claims it. The snow crunches and sticks to his pedes, growing thicker and deeper as each stride buries him further in it. The vast expanse of white is barren and merciless, the only hope for salvation is a thicket of trees clinging onto a buried peninsula, waving gently at him along the lip of the skyline. His comms crackle with static and he wants to scream, but such a hopeless endeavour is sure to claim his life, not like his bright yellow paint doesn't betray him from the monotonous environment anyways. 

And betray him it does, because the shrill scream of a jet trailing behind him is reminiscent of a wolf gunning down a rabbit, he doesn't need to turn to know who it is. Doesn't need to write pointless equations in his helm to narrow down the mechs that can fly, deducing it's weight and type based off the speed and sound alone. He wants to punch himself in the helm for getting into this mess, for poking and prodding the big bad con that would relish in ripping him apart. The con most at ease in the bitter cold over a frozen lake Erie, a wolf about to snap up the stupid rabbit caught out in the open. The trees rock gently with no intent on growing closer, almost jeering at him.

He feels it before he hears it, a sharp crack and he twists and B-lines just as a pillar of ice shoots from the ground where he once was, tip tapered into a wicked spike. He dives around it and fruitlessly wills himself to run  _ faster _ , a thundering roar shakes him as a familiar jet soars right over him before circling back behind him. His pedes feel heavy, processor scrambling as all his protocols scream at his useless legs to pick up the slack, snow sucks onto his tires in retaliation. 

He doesn't know where his team is, he got peeled from them so quickly. Everything happened so fast, the trip back from Omega Supreme was supposed to go without a hitch. Then Megatron's goons swooped in and now they were scattered, and one of them was dead set on ending his short existence. He doesn't have time to berate Prowl in his helm, survival protocols surge forward and he changes directions at the last second as a forest of ice erupts around him. The lake's frozen cap groans something sinister and the mini bot can feel his tanks churn, the thought of cold water anticipating his fall spurs him onward.

He was going to kill prowl if he made it out of this online, that smug ninja bot with his stupid ideas! Yeah good idea tricking the big con to crash land straight into a frozen lake, he totally won't hold a grudge later. Like Bumblebee wasn't already holding a huge 'kick me' sign with his bright paint, short size, and his loud mouth. No he had to piss off the unstable Triple Changer, a giant con who now had a justifiable fixation on him. He doesn't have time to write out the regrets in his mind's will, because the lake is sprouting more teeth shaped ice in an attempt to devour him.

He chances a glance behind him and he snaps his helm forward as he fights through snow that steals his alt mode from him, stumbling as his neck struts creak from the fear induced whiplash. The vengeful dive of the beige jet carves itself a nice spot in his databanks, no doubt to haunt his dreams later. The air rattles with a violence as it roars closer before suddenly he's airborne, he thinks he's been snatched into the sky but the snow reclaims his whole frame with a solid  _ whump _ . 

Ice groans and stretches up in front of him, fragments of a missile scattered inside the transparent element like some sick museum display. His helm is left ringing and his right pede throbs in pain, yet still he scrambles forward like a wild animal and feels more traitorous rocks bite at his servos and pedes.

A confused glance back reveals a giant rock that juts out of the ground, having tripped him in his fight or flight stupor when a realization smashes into him. 

Rocks. ROCKS. The peninsula, he's on it! The trees sway innocently in front of him and he dives for them, anywhere is better than the frozen wasteland behind him. In the center of these clustered trees he crawls over and leans heavily against the largest one, spark pounding so hard his frame rattles like a cocktail shaker. His vents are coming out cold yet they burn, he doesn't have the time but he tries to access the conflicting information with confused digits. He finds they can barely move, still he tests his frozen digits along his upper waist in the spot where chassis meets protoform. With his arms crossed like he's unwrapping himself he slides his shaking servos up until they hit the small vent flaps, they shutter and he almost doubles over with how horribly they sting. Choking back whimpers he tries rubbing warmth back into the fragile openings, slush leaks out and all he can do is curl up.

The sky screams loud as it's split apart to make way for the jet passing overhead, the trees shaking like matchsticks as the con dives down close above them. A torrent of thin pine needles is ripped up and scattered in the wind, trailing violently after the giant wings that had ripped them from their perch. The minibot freezes as a horrific new thought bubbles up, the cold no longer his concern as the angry jet circles around for another barrage. He slams his palms against his helm muttering 'stupid' over and over again, tiny body curled against a very sturdy, very flammable tree. He had to piss off the triple changer hadn't he, the one who had just as much sway over fire as he did ice. 

He tries to get up but his frame is too heavy, his processor tries to bargain with the mecha animal trapped in his helm that they were sitting in fresh tinder, but it just won't listen. It wants to hide as his small frame succumbs to the cold. The perfume of nitrogen clings to his frame, no doubt from the explosive ice missiles that had burst mere inches from him. His survival protocols collect every ounce of reasoning and intellect and fling it to the farthest horizon, demanding he hide like his paint job isn't doing it's damnedest to impersonate the sun.

Only there is no violent fire, no burning trees purging him from his hiding spot with their malformed ember claws. The shriek of a jet is replaced by what can only be described as a world ending boom upon the impact of something heavy, and for the second time the minibot is airborne again. He can't stifle the yelp as he crashes back down, servos slam against his intake as his optics pop open and nervously dart about. It takes the ground a second to shiver still, but when it does all is silent. The minibot paralyzed in fear, he dare not move, every flap squeezed shut and his optics locked forward. 

Quietly the wind returns with a gentle whistle, distant crows croak confused calls in the far distance. The pines glance about before returning to their ceremonious swishing, needle shaped leaves fluttering and replacing the dull ring that ebbs from Bee's helm. The sun bears down from overhead like nothing was ever amiss in the world, uncaring of any havoc and mishap, serene in the face of calamities. The minibot is curious if he'll live to see it set.

A new sound joins the gentle fray, a soft click, followed by a quiet whirr, and Bee knows the beast is behind him. The giant decepticon must have landed outside the swaying hamlet of trees, poised and waiting for his brightly colored rabbit to lose his nerve and bolt. His frozen legs zing with energy and it takes wrangling his willpower to not let them twitch, just let the crazy con lose interest. 

"Kleine Beine~" a raspy voice hisses out like an off tone melody, the scrape of talons dragging over bark is followed by the slow rhythmic thumps of pedes circling around his defenseless haven. The minibot feels his optics draw wider and his frame tries desperately to shrink, legs drawn to his chassis with his servos clamped over his mouth. Each heavy pede fall resets his spark before it spirals off in a dizzy panic, processor failing to compute how a mech could be so large.

With a frame built like an apex predator Blitzwing stalks around the thicket of trees, beige and violet colors flash between the wooden slits akin to a flickering film. He isn't setting everything on fire though, isn't knocking over the thin obstacles that is keeping him from his prize. No, instead he circles the wooden cage with a sadistic drag of his talons upon every tree, scoring marks across each one to mark down an invisible cage. 

"I know you're in there. Come out, come out, wherever you are!" That distorted voice rasps. Long legs swallow ground as they dig a muddy trench through the snow, compact crunching smoothly transitions into soggy squelches.

The minibot can feel his systems shutting down, from the cold or from fear he can't tell. His arms drop to his lap slowly as they become too numb to function, legs slipping down loosely. Survival code is looping in a frantic error as it tries to understand why this tiny minibot isn't dead yet, it can only receive so much data before it blue screens from stress alone. It zeros in on the long legs and swirling colors trailing after that massive frame and slaps that information down into the folder labeled 'you can't hide'. This folder is next to a second one labeled 'you can't run', it processes both options before bursting with malware. 

The cybertronian version of fight or flight is unavailable, freeze is what's left. Survival protocols shut down and the minibot's processor wastes no time in speed running every stage of grief, better luck next life. 

Maybe don't call a forty foot tall decepticon a 'refrigerator' and things like this won't happen, a dumb giggle bursts from his intake. His survival protocols are too busy smacking at its own malware to care, tangled code intoxicates his processor and he laughs harder. He briefly recalls the events that got him into this mess, but the slideshow of memory stutters and slips and he can't help but cackle. He was getting killed over name-calling, nice! 

He can already hear prime at his funeral "that's our Bee! Couldn't keep his mouth shut and died." Prowl would cry a single tear, he knew what he did.

" **You insolent little pest!** " A deep voice booms and suddenly that obscured frame plows through trees that flutter away with a flurry of snow. Blitzwing charges through what little space exists between the miniature forest, shoving over the few that offend him with his mere presence. 

Instead of the hysterical inky face, it's the bright red one. A hysterical giggle breaks out. It's big mad man, Mr. Toaster man was here to exact his revenge. He had to think of better insults, what kinda last insult is 'toaster'? Although maybe that's not such a bad thing, the heat radiating off the giant warframe is so immense the snow scurries away like it's a living thing. In fact the minibot can feel his frostbitten plating prickle as each nerve tingles back to life, his helm rolls back and he does what he does best.

He speaks without thinking, because what else can he do? 

"Thank you, I really needed that." At least he lacks the strength and audacity to rub his servos together and hold them out, his shivering begins to subside. 

The frosted ground he's sitting on is rapidly turning to slush, smothered under the heavy blanket of the larger mechs EM field, and judging from the way it crackles like an angry fire the con wasn't too happy. Bumblebee didn't need to worry about the soggy ground for long though, because a giant black servo snatches him up away from the cold puddle he was sitting in. His vents hissed as he was squeezed, the ground spiraling away as he was lifted up.

The giant cons paw almost wrapped fully around his chassis, the realization stunted as his processor ran circles around itself. He was exhausted after running across the frozen lake, being shot at the whole time, all while his nimble frame decided heat just had to go. Face to face with an angry con his self preservation coding shut down, and with nothing holding him back he grinned up at the face gritting sharp denta at him. "Wonderful weather we're having up here, you wouldn't happen to still be mad about that whole… lake thing would you?"

Blitzwing's face twitched before a soft click sounded, then a deafening whirr followed as the red face spun away in a whirlwind of color. It snapped to a stop on the cold blue face he normally wore, single optic narrowed to a slit and Bee was fairly certain this wasn't his angry face. Whatever smart remark that was about to slip out was silenced by the harsh cold voice in a volume that was barely above a whisper, "No actually, on the contrary I'm  _ livid _ ." 

The way that blue face spoke always chilled the minibot's fuel lines, everything about him was cold. From his powers all the way to his demeanor, even his frame sucked the heat from the surrounding air, a true likeness to winter. Now he was closer then he would have ever liked, the red glow of the cons monocle drowning him in harsh colored hues like a spotlight. He chuckled nervously despite the cold claws curling tighter around his chassis, the buckling metal creaking out loud. His voice was strained as his chassis squeezed his words out. "Really? I didn't know they installed Ice Queens with emotions."

Bumblebee is close enough he actually sees the cons lone optic widen just a fraction, pupil shrinking into a speck in that slit of red. Pale lips press thin and before he knows it his vision tumbles sideways. He barely registers what's going on before he's airborne, a shout marking his takeoff. 

By the time he realizes he's just been  _ thrown _ the ground is eagerly rushing up to meet him. He barely transforms into his alt to help cushion the impact, his tires jumping inside his hubcaps as his entire undercarriage slams into the ground with a gruff crunch. The air in his frame wheezes out and joins the mass of snow flung up from around him like crystal fireworks. The powdery snow slowly settles around him and he groans as he tries to roll away, wheels crumpled in pathetic ovals that can only grind his frame farther into the snow. 

The false safety of the trees is a good distance away, but at least he was launched in the opposite direction of the frozen over lake. He transforms back into root mode and curls over, the damage transfering from his wheels to his limbs. Struggling to climb to his pedes he can see the rolling hills of snow that clamber between the distant trees behind the peninsula, the forest unending. It would be a smart call to try and hide there, even if he's coated helm to pede in obnoxiously bright paint. He starts to stumble into a run, knees wobbling when he hears a loud  _ shoom _ . He chances a glance back at the hamlet of trees and his spark nearly pops out of his intake.

Blitzwing is still in his root mode, but he's in the air with fire and smoke trailing from his heels in thick plumes. As quickly as the deafening engines start up they abruptly cut out, the giant con falls forward sure to slam face first into the ground, but that isn't the case. His wings swing forward, and instead of falling straight down he curves into a sloped dive, one aimed right at the minibot. 

He stands there frozen, simply soaking in the sight, because it might be the last thing he will ever see. The con coasting above the ground near silently as he cuts through the air, frame flattened with his talon-tipped servos slowly drawing forward. The ice blue face present is blank, lone optic wide with the white pupil swollen and locked on him. Normally tucked back wings are swung out like a bird of prey's, and he does resemble one from this angle. Like something ripped straight from one of Prowl's nature films, and he got to experience the prey's perspective.

His frozen pedes refuse to move so easily, fumbling with the commands his processor is slamming them with. Finally after agonizing seconds of watching his demise descending on him does he turn and run in the direction of the endless woods. It doesn't matter, it was already too late. The woods are just too far away, and he can see the winged shadow swallowing the ground behind him, and then outrace him as it grows larger. He struggles harder, gritting his denta to push harder through the snow but it braces against his legs with every step. He cries out as something smashes against his back, tiny frame swallowed in the blanket of snow.

Blitzwing catches him with a single outstretched servo, talons sinking into the smaller bots bulky back. The other servo reaches out to skid along the ground to support his weight, the rest of his frame follows suit with a ground shaking tremor. He skids to a stop and drags the minibot along, the tiny bot ground further into the gritty dirt and snow. He's certain he can hear muffled screaming under the pile of up-churned debris his prey is buried under, which unfortunately meant he wasn't dead.

The giant con pulled the scuffed and squirming frame from the pile of rubble and closer to his face. He could see the rapid vents with the erratic rise and fall of the smaller bots chassis. He tilted his helm in curiosity, monocle cycling as it examined his shivering prey. The minibot had his helm rolled back, tiny servos latched onto his thumb talon in a feeble attempt to alleviate pressure on his hood. It would be so easy to snuff the tiny spark beating underneath, but the tiny bug couldn't keep his mouth shut. He found himself pausing his thoughts to drag his gaze up, two tiny blue optics were peering at him now.

Bumblebee was transfixed on the mismatched optics that were picking his plating apart, frame shuddering as that monocle zoomed in on his defenseless chassis. He could see every detail on the monotone face, so close he could map out barely visible scars along his jaw and brow. The thick scar that melds with protoform above his monocle that dips into the seam of his visor, like something awful had grabbed his face and sunk the scope in forcefully. 

His limbs jitter as he feels the pressure intense on his hood, the giant thumb talon about to pierce through the thin metal to spear his spark. The moment crystalizes and he quickly understands what is about to happen. He throws his servos up and waves them frantically at the larger mech, shaking his head as he practically screams. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! Okay look, how about we talk this out! No need to be dramatic, let's just calm down- well you're already on your calm face, but that's besides the pooooiiiAAAAHHHH!"

The minibots rambling was cut off as he was shaken like a ragdoll, screaming as he curled into a ball and the world spun in a rush of wind. When everything settled he was back to staring at the uncannily vacant face of the feral con playing cat and mouse with him. He was an idiot, he was getting killed over taunts, maybe he should keep his mouth shut more, yet even now he fails his own advice. His voice is straining with his vox struggling to output sound, yet now his processor finally throws a crazy idea his way. "Jeez okay, you win. What do you want an apology? I'm sorry, just stop with the-!!" 

The minibot gestures wildly to the entire landscape, unable to convey how terrifying the last hour had been. He had been shot at, hunted down, thrown, and now he was being squeezed like a minibot shaped stress ball. Even the very landscape had worked against him, the cold still sunken deep in his joints. 

The impassive voice surprises him so much he flinches and resets his optics, locking them onto the strangely delicate looking lips speaking them. The glint of fangs flashes between them and the minibot doesn't wanna know what those are used for. The words feel cold despite the light fog that ghosts between gleaming fangs. "It's a bit late for that, don't you think? You devious Autobot's and your false words." 

The minibot jumps at that, shaking his helm stubbornly as the big cons cold breath washes over him, the scent the same as that crisp nitrogen from his detonated missiles. "What?! No, I'm being serious! C'mon I didn't know a couple of little jabs would get under your plating! B-b-but hey I learned a very.. valuable lesson so if.. you could just l-let me go.."

Blitzwing stares holes into his plating, the Autobots words dying into weak mumbles. The con playing arbiter over his life doesn't seem particularly moved by his words, in fact he's certain he doesn't believe a single word in his half baked apology. He swallows and cracks a nervous grin, but the sharp bite of metal claws remains firm in his sides.

Then the giant con relaxes, squared shoulders dropping and his cannons swinging back up, Bumblebee hadn't even noticed they were pointed at him. He had been and still was fixated on that baleful stare directed his way, only now his crimson optic fell into a lazy expression. Thin pale blue lips quirked along the corners, and he realized that was the closest he ever saw this face smile.

"Oh, of course." Blitzwing says it plain and simple, vox laced with something thin and barely restrained. "But tell me, what was it that you learned?"

Bumblebee's optics pop open comically wide, his vox resetting with an awful squeak. The words aren't coming out, he's tripping over his processor tangling his obvious web of lies into a mangled unhelpful heap. He mumbles a nervous 'what?' and watches the con in front of him slowly dissolve into a thinly veiled elated flavor of insanity. 

"Well if you're apologizing surely you know why, so tell me. What valuable lesson did that tiny little mind of yours learn?" Every word is dripping with sarcasm, every syllable dragged out into a gleeful taunt. Despite the humored look on his pale face Bee can see the hatred burning behind it all. 

His servos are still useless yet free, and he fumbles with them while his optics dart about nervously. A tiny chuckle bubbles from his intake, high and reedy as his processor takes a complete dive out of the conversation. His survival protocols send him useless tips to escape like flailing his limbs in panic and begging for his life, the latter seems like the most amicable option.

"W-well.. I suppose calling you ugly was kinda.. hehe.. mean? I mean it's not like there's anything wrong with being ugly! Not that YOU'RE ugly!" Sucking up is not his strong suit, he's often honest and jeering with his words at the best of times. He can already see his life slipping between his fumbling digits, hopefully team prime can salvage something from his remains. But the deranged con only twitches his quirked lip, either he's enjoying this or his patience is running thin. 

"And the refrigerator thing! C'mon I was just kidding! Thought you'd have a good laugh with that.. well.." He gestures lamely at the others helm, then backpedals the statement with a quick shout. "BUT HEY! Ice isn't a shabby weapon! Really sucks to get impaled by it! Or slip in it! Or just sit hiding freezing to death from it!"

The closing servo around his chassis confirms his theory about that thin patience, his voice pitching higher in blind panic. He grabs the thumb talon digging a rivet in his armor to no avail, nervous grin cracking apart into a grimace. "Wait! Look I say dumb stuff sometimes! I can say dumb stuff about myself too! Look at the dumb car battery making fun of the fridge! I'm sorry you fell in the lake I didn't mea-"

The next face change is sudden, the sound is deafening from so close. Blitzwing throws his helm back at the last second to hide his face going haywire before a shrieking cackle bursts from his intake. A spoon caught in a garbage disposal would've sounded better, and it lasts for a good while. The con sinks to his knees with his missile housing shaking from the outburst, vents rattling with every deep compression his chassis makes. 

It takes him a good minute to calm down, free servo slapping against his face to cover the gaping intake that some would generously call a mouth. His optics are slitted in a mirthful expression, the minibot can feel his paint peeling away from his frame under his gleeful stare. He was done with this con and his crazy antics, but apparently Blitzwing wasn't done with him because he quickly gets up. He's still letting out sharp little  _ hoos  _ and  _ haas _ as he turns back to the frozen lake that seemed so far away.

One crimson optic widens into an inquisitive expression, hand pulling away to expose that horrible intake. His voice crackling like malformed static. "I JUST got that, hahahah you ARE a car battery. Tell me little car battery, what do you do when they run out of power?"

Bumblebee didn't wanna know, he wanted to get as far away from this beast as fast as possible. He shakes his helm to deny whatever twisted answer this con has concocted in his glitched processor, which only seems to goad con into telling him with an excited shriek. "YOU THROW THEM INTO THE OCEAN!"

Bumblebee's horrified NO is silenced by a missile flying out of the cons shoulder with a shrill cry, smashing into a fiery inferno against the ice over the lake in a grandeios explosion. The embers are still flying in graceful arcs when he gets launched into the air a second time, a shrill cackle sounding below him and quickly fading out.

He can't even fit a scream into his daily schedule of getting tossed before he slams into the frigid water, his vents sputter out plumes of bubbles before he's sucked fully under. He wilts at the bottom of the lake, water rushing into every crevice as he settles in the silt and mud with a quiet thump. Fish flit away in silver flashes, wary of this strange intruder. The light filters down from the hole in the ice in a mirrade of soft blue hues. 

He tries to will his frame to move, servos lagging as he struggles to pull them above his helm to weakly grasp the shafts of light that beam down on him. Bubbles burst from his intake before the cold floods in, his systems firing off warnings like rapid fire that he was shutting down. The cold was too much, antifreeze was being depleted to his most important components, his limbs were not considered vital. He was trapped down here as the cold bit and gnawed on his limbs, his fuel lines slowing as the life-blood inside began to turn to slush.

His vents froze shut and his optics started dimming, he couldn't have been down here longer than a minute, not with the water above still settling from the sudden entry. That didn't stop the cold from stealing every last trace of heat from his chassis, his heavy servos gave out and dropped to his chest, too numb to feel his spark slowly beating. 

Before the world falls away in darkness he can see the light change, blue mixes with red, then they swirl in a flashing dance. The shrill call of an ambulance sounds but his audials don't hear it.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Blitzwing watches the crater in the ice with some interest, jagged smile cracked wide as the water slowly settles. He doesn't get to enjoy the scene for long, because the low hum of a tiny engine sounds to his right, and right as he turns to it his face is met with the burning screech of a tire.

He tumbles back with a feral screech, swiping at his face to alleviate the skid marks burning between his optics. The ground shudders when he crashes back, snow crunching and flying up around him like frozen fireworks. He can hear the tell tale sound of metal plating shifting apart to form the shape of a mech, growling and guessing at who was nimble enough to land a shot to his face.

He rolls over to his front and sees the irritating Ninja bot immediately, a static growl seeping from his intake. He slowly drags himself forward, frame rigid and his digits gouging marks deep into the crushed ground. His new adversary is quick to pull himself into a defensive position, form fluid and well versed in fighting. 

Blitzwing never gets the chance to test his combat expertise, his helm crackles to life just as more autobots pour in to apprehend him. Lugnuts booming voice tells him all he needs to know, he's been mobbed and has already retreated. While Blitzwing can certainly handle a group of tiny idiots, he'd rather not test his luck on this barren backwater planet. 

He heeds the transmission. They're retreating, and with that he rises back onto his pedes and sends a couple stray missiles into the direction of the motorcycle. They slam into the ground around him in a torrent of heat and fire, the smaller bot jumping away, and if that tiny bot wasn't so infuriating Blitzwing would've found the movements graceful. It was too bad he was so evasive, he would've looked better blown to bits.

The missiles create enough distance to provide a quick exit. The triple changer snaps off a perky salute, calls out a quick little 'Auf Wiedersehen' before he's transforming and flying after his fellow con.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight is short and quick, the smaller con finding himself tucked under a battered wing to support Lugnut's blown out turbine. Without Blitzwing's help, the large bomber would've tilted and succumbed to a lazy descent until he crashed. While Blitzwing would've loved to see his companion eat the ground below, now wasn't the time or place. 

It's a struggle to keep calm with a sputtering turbine wafting acidic gusts of smoke into his vents, irritation quickly manifesting. The thought of dropping Lugnut is also bringing about some rather sinister thoughts, his icy facade crumbling with a quiet snicker, cut off with a cough. Still he manages to keep calm, the bluff of a cliff breaks through the trees soon enough.

They land together, transforming with their legs thrown forward to catch themselves as the ground sends static shocks up their struts. Blitzwing uses the momentum to trot to a stop, glancing about their tiny cliff encampment for a specific magenta seeker. Behind him he hears a signature thump of heavy metal hitting the ground, and nonchalantly reminds himself that if Starscream can't recover fuel they have other options.

His pale blue face twitches as a harsh giggle bubbles in his throat, reminding himself that cannibalism is always a last resort. Besides, him and Screamer make bad company together. A final sweep over their crude camp still reveals no obnoxiously colored seekers, so he turns back to his fallen comrade and stalks over. 

Lugnut is sporting damage along his entire left side, shoulder buckled inwards right where his wing folds over. It's the only serious damage, and with the dent being an inverted sphere shape he can guess who did that. The rest is tiny knicks and slashes, nothing time and much needed fuel won't take care of, he doubts the big brute can even feel those through his thick plating.

Lugnut seems to catch onto the smaller cons hawkish scrutiny, his largest optic narrows in discontent. He only rumbles in warning and Blitzwing finally backs off to let the big brute lick his wounds in peace. This leaves him with nothing to do except wait now, and quickly bored he begins to pace the edges of the clearings perimeter. 

Their self appointed leader is still absent, the sun is starting to hang precariously above the horizon. The triple changer curls his lip just slightly, fighting off a vexed episode as his processor scrambles to make sense as to why the smallest of their trio is still absent. He calms himself with a few deep vents, the twitching in his face subsiding. 

Their skirmish earlier wasn't worth it, even if it was satisfying to punish the tiniest member of those insects for his deplorable battle tactics. He wants to believe the diminutive bot froze to death in that lake, but he'd been swarmed too quickly to confirm. He was most likely alive, he would most likely recover, and he would most likely resume tormenting the con with his abhorrent glossa. 

His pacing picks up in speed, plating flaring with aggression to let out trapped heat in thin foggy wisps. They trail behind him as he stalks the edge of the bluff, bits of rock and ice crack and tumble away in delicate arcs to shatter someplace far down below. The night is starting to creep up from below, but Blitzwing doesn't notice between the nasty grit of his denta and his flaring EM field. 

His thoughts are consumed with how pathetic the Autobots have become, so unbefitting of strength they rely on manipulation and mobbing to match a single con. Somehow that tiny yellow one seemed to pick up on one of Blitzwing's faults, smelled a weakness and wasted no time in exploiting it. Really he hates himself more though, for being so open and weak, so much so a mere minibot could scream at him and cause him to fall from the sky. This would have to be quickly remedied, otherwise he would only prove to be a liability. The beginning's of a growl was rumbling his chassis at the thought of him being considered a burden to his cause.

The shrill scream of a jet slicing through the air shook him from his reprieve, his helm snapping in the direction of the sound with his monocle cycling frantically.

It was certainly Starscream, the mech wasn't even in his alt mode, although there seemed to be something in his arms to explain this. Lugnut seemed to notice his comrade's behavior, because he stood and lumbered over to await the seeker's landing. They were both hungry, and fighting had done the opposite of alleviating that, at least Blitzwing had flown away with hardly a scratch on him. Not that he particularly cared much for Lugnuts state, the giant bomber could take a lot of abuse, but to treat injuries one required more resources. They would no doubt fight over whatever was brought.

Starscream was soon gliding down and skidding to a stop in front of them, optics slitted as he shifted two crushed cars around under his arms. A sly smirk cut across his face, something nefarious brewing from within the depths of his treacherous processor. Lugnut had already begun to move closer, but the seeker loudly snapped his wings together with an aggressive flick. This only irritated the larger of the two but it did halt his advance, the seeker wasting no time in being an abhorrent wretch. "You know I'd feel a whole lot better if you big clumsy mechs knew what gratitude ment."

"You waste our time starscream! We need strength to find our rightful leader!"

"Ahh, that's right, you poor thing. I know we all grieve differently but you've gotta give it up! We have more important things to worry about." Condescending tone dripping off his glossa.

"There is no reason to grieve! Megatron waits for us!"

"So you say, yet there is no trace of him. He died when the Autobots blew up that lonely little space bridge. Although you probably missed that show when you crammed yourself into an escape pod." The seeker spits out the last part with venom, optics slitting in disdain.

"Then you LIE!"

"ENOUGH! You follow me now, our leader is dead! There are some things you don't come back from, we need to accept that, don't we Blitzy?" The seeker casts him a side look, practically purring his name out just shy of obscene.

Blitzwing finds him looking over at him, tearing his gaze away from the precious fluid dripping from the crushed cars tucked under the seeker's arms. He knows the obnoxious jet is full of it, lying through his teeth so well Unicron himself would reel back in disgust. Still he finds he needs to be careful with his words, Blitzwing was never the 'leader' type, in fact he didn't function well alone. He finds his words restrained in compliance. "I suppose we do.. regardless we need to refuel. Starving accomplishes nothing for our cause."

Why Starscream was hugging the precious fuel so close was quickly revealed, his body language shifting into something less hostile upon the triple changers passive behavior. He wanted something, he always wanted something. The day Starscream had found the pair blown up by omega supreme along the shores of the nearby great lake, he had been very adamant in reminding everyone of their debt. It was becoming more tiresome with each passing orbital cycle. "Ahh, finally a voice of reason. It hurts but we must accept he's gone, once we move on, we can finally enact  _ my _ plans."

"Please, what do you want starscream?" Blitzwing asked tired, the words muffled behind the servo he was dragging over his face. He pointedly ignored the way Lugnut was scowling at them both, pinchers grinding together with the small flicker of sparks breaking between them. The big oaf would thank him later. 

"I'm so glad you asked." He purred, edging closer with his chin lifted to balance his arrogance on the tip of it. "The allspark. I know you two are borderline  _ stalking _ those accursed autobots, so you  _ must  _ know where their allspark is."

The seeker's words struck a chord in the triple changer, his temper flaring in a rush of heat that swarmed his chassis. His face snapped away, the clearing carrying the loud mechanical whirring across the empty space. Bright red broke from the whirlwind of shifting faces, and this visage bares it's gritted denta with a savage snarl.

The seeker in front of him backs up as his mood hits a complete 180, EM field lashing out with the prickle of embers. His fuel lines beat like drums against his audials, sizing up his comrade with a burning visor. He doesn't speak, he  _ spits _ his words out. 

"Of course we know where it is! Why should we tell YOU that?!"

The surprise flashes quickly across the smaller of the twos face, but he's quick to recover, glossy grey talons curled in a silent threat. Whatever approval Blitzwing had garnered for himself was quickly lost, not as though it mattered to him.

"Don't you get tough with me! I am the leader of this- this!!" There's a growl, then a frustrated motion as the seeker tosses the cars into the clearing. He whips back to Blitzwing and jabs a talon against his cockpit, optics hateful little slits. "THIS band of FREAKS!" 

The insult clocks the triple changer in the face, better than any swing could. Starscream isn't done though. 

"Look at you mooching off  _ my  _ good will! Look at you, not sporting a single scratch like some pristine lil pin up plane! So what were you doing if not procuring my allspark?! Where were you when Lugnut was getting his plating torn off by incompetent little insects?!"

"He was chasing a bug." 

Both helms snap to the side to see the giant purple bomber speak with an intake muffled by mangled car bits. Lugnut stares at them with that blank expression he always carries, his beak rendering a crushed door to scraps in a few easy bites. His pinchers pull the rest of the car in half like it's made of paper, pausing just before he digs into the pipes and wires that spring between the split ends. 

"While I was fighting the main group, he saw fit to chase the yellow one."

Starscream turns on him with a downright feral expression, but the triple changer doesn't back down. They resume ignoring the giant bomber tearing into the much needed resources. "Instead of procuring the allspark, you saw fit to get sidetracked by a loudmouth mini con?! I knew you were weak, but really that's quite pathetic. Did you catch him? Your servos are looking a little clean there."

"Leave it screamer."

"Or what? Gonna let a few words get under your plating?" Something sadistic flashes across the seeker's face, peeking between his gleaming fangs as they're bared by a smirk. "Is that all it takes to steal your leash? Maybe I should make note of that."

This is the way seeker's disputed things, with flashy wing displays and cutting words. Blitzwing knew this, had always known this was how fliers got their frustrations out. But he wasn't a seeker right now, not in his angry visage that's painted everything in bold red. He wants nothing more then to punch that stupid smirk off the seeker's face, has to restrain himself with clenched servos that rattle his arms. 

But he doesn't stop the guttural growl that burns his chassis, and quakes up his intake so disproportionately loud. The sound uncanny in the simple fact seeker's aren't capable of growling, their engines no louder than a cars. Blitzwing has two engines though, and he makes good use of the tank engine that shakes his entire frame. The clearing falls quiet as the deep mechanical timbre fills the air.

The effect is immediate, Starscream jerking back with a few quick steps away. Like he had forgotten he was talking to mech shaped Frankenstein, and not another seeker. Blitzwing gets what he wants though, can finally stalk past the startled seeker to share the salvaged parts and fuel. The second car remains untouched by Lugnut, he hadn't forgotten the hungry gaze that had lingered over him from earlier.

Blitzwing plucks up the car with a swipe of his sharp talons, skulking over to the edge of the clearing to tear into it. Starscream shoots him a seething glare from across the clearing, paying it no mind as he settles down in the cold grey gravel. 

He doesn't stop to think about how his comrades view him, too preoccupied with the angry snap and tear of the car between his talons. He busies himself with locating the fuel tank of this mechanical abomination, side eyeing the other two mechs as they chatter and argue with each other now. Good for them, he thinks as he finally sinks his denta into his prize. 

The gasoline, while fragrant, is light. For now though it suffices, and Blitzwing drinks it down in the peace that was bought from his own alienation. 

**Author's Note:**

> There is more chapters after this, mobile just doesn't like me. I don't have computer. Can't edit or fix my stubborn fic to display 1/???


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